he garbled sound of a loudspeaker filtered into the room, an advertisement for some unfamiliar product. Satake opened his eyes and looked at the watch that was still strapped to his wrist: 3.00 p.m. He smoked a cigarette as he stared at the panels on the ceiling, trying to decide whether the murky brown stains were real or a trick played by the light from the cracks in the curtains. Turning on the light next to the bed, he looked down at the mound of paper on the floor. The carpet was mottled with food stains from the previous tenant, but the reports were in order and neatly stacked: the results of the investigation he'd asked a detective agency to make. Yayoi, Yoshie, Kuniko and Masako. The pile had grown in recent days after the trail had led from Kuniko and Masako to Jumonji. The investigation had already cost him nearly ten million yen.

He lit another cigarette and gathered up the stack of papers, reading once again through material he'd almost memorised by now. First, the report from Yoko Morisaki, who had managed to work her way into the Yamamoto household.

***

The older Yamamoto boy (age 5): 'That night [when Yamamoto disappeared] I heard Papa come home. I thought I heard Mama go out and say something to him, but the next morning she said I must have been dreaming, so I wasn't sure any more. But the night before, I know they had a fight and Papa hit Mama. I remember because I couldn't sleep I was so scared. I saw the bruise. Mama got that night when we were in the bath.' The younger boy (age 3): "Mama and Papa had a lot of fights. I'm usually in bed so I don't know but they were always yelling when he came home. I'd get down under, like I'm asleep. I don't remember that night [when Yamamoto disappeared]. But Milk [the cat] ran away. After that he won't come home. I don't know why.'

A neighbour (age 46): 'She's so pretty that when I heard she'd started working nights I assumed there was a man involved. To tell the truth, we often heard them screaming at each other in the middle of the night or early in the morning. She looks even prettier now that he's gone - which raised some eyebrows around here.'

A neighbour (age 37): 'I heard a rumour that the cat still comes when the kids call it, but it won't have anything to do with their mother. They say it bolts at the sight of her. When we heard it had run away that night, everybody assumed it must have seen something. It gives me the creeps to think she might have cut him up in there and let his blood and guts run down the drain.'

***

Yamamoto-san is not favourably viewed in the neighbourhood, mostly because of the transformation she underwent after the incident. Suspicions were aroused by her apparent lack of feeling and the perception that she seemed to be liberated by the loss of her husband - also by the fact that she seems even better-looking than before.

During my stay in her house I saw ample evidence that she was glad her husband was dead. I also had the chance to observe her as she learned from the police that a prime suspect had disappeared, and it was clear that she considered this good news.

Perhaps because she felt the police were preoccupied with this suspect, she seemed to relax and all but forget about the incident. When I casually asked about the bruise on her stomach that her son had mentioned, she told me quite simply that her husband had hit her, but she offered no further explanation.

Perhaps because she is expecting to receive her husband's insurance settlement, she has recently begun talking about quitting her job at the factory. However, when her friends from work call the house, especially Masako Katori, she adopts a highly deferential tone with them. She seems almost frightened of Katori.

I discovered no hard evidence, nor even any rumours, of a love affair.

At the end of November, an insurance settlement of ¥50,000,000 is due to be deposited in Yayoi Yamamoto's bank account.

REPORT ON MASAKO KATORI

A neighbour (age 68): 'She seems to get along well enough with her husband - he works for a construction company, I think - although I have to say I've never seen them go out together. They say her son [age 17] isn't on speaking terms with them. His music used to bother us, but lately he's been very quiet. When you run into him on the street, he seems moody and never says a word. Masako isn't particularly sociable either, but she does nod and say hello. She's rather strange, though, and she doesn't seem to take very good care of herself.'

A young woman (age 18): studying for her entrance exams who lives across the street: "You can't miss her: she leaves in the middle of the night and comes back every morning at the crack of dawn. I can see their house from my desk, so you could say I'm watching all day long. That morning [the day after Yamamoto disappeared], two women came to see her. One was on a bike and the other in a green car. I think they went home around noon.'

A local house owner (age 75): 'That morning [the day after Yamamoto disappeared], a young woman came out of the Katori house and tried to leave the garbage she was carrying in my cans. I gave her a piece of my mind and sent her packing. The bags looked heavy, easily ten kilos apiece. She didn't put up much of a fight; just ran off with them as quick as she could go. Katori-san herself would never try a stunt like that.'

Factory manager (age 31): 'She's worked here about two years. She takes her job seriously and she's one of our best workers. I heard she used to work as an accountant, so I'm considering upgrading her to regular employee status. She's a leader on the line, though her skills seem rather wasted there. She's friendly with Yoshie Azuma, Yayoi Yamamoto and Kuniko Jonouchi. They always used to work as a team, though since that business with Yamamoto's husband, they seem to have split up. Of the four, only Katori and Azuma still come to work on a regular basis.'

Former co-worker at T Credit and Loan (age 35): 'Katori-san was good at her job, but she had a stubborn streak. I don't think management trusted her, and she wasn't particularly popular with the rest of us either. I don't know what became of her after she quit.'

***

Masako Katori is reasonably well liked in her neighbourhood and at her current job, but most of her acquaintances seem to feel they can never be sure what she's thinking. There are no reports of extramarital affairs, and her home life appears to be stable. However, she has never been a member of any community group and has little to do with her neighbours.

There are also no reports of infidelity by her husband. He is not particularly popular at work, and colleagues report that he seems to have little real interest in his job, an opinion confirmed by the fact that his career has apparently stalled. The Katoris' son was expelled during his first year of high school. He currently works part-time as a plasterer. It is rumoured that he doesn't speak to them at home.

On a date subsequent to the incident, Yoshie Azuma and Akira Jumonji (alias Akira Yamada) of the Million Consumers Centre gathered at the Katori home. Jumonj i arrived in a dark-blue sedan and carried a large object into the house. Three hours later, he emerged with eight parcels and loaded them in the car. I was not ^ble to determine what the boxes contained or where he took them (though I was able to identify Jumonji himself from the licence-plate number).

REPORT ON AKIRA JUMONJI (ALIAS AKIRA YAMADA)

Former employee at Million Consumers Centre (age 25): 'The boss was always bragging that he used to be in that gang from Adachi, the Silk Buddhas or something, and that his buddy had gone on to head the Toyosumi mob. At the drop of a hat, he'd bring up his gang connections, and I have to admit we were all a bit nervous of him. I'd even thought of quitting because of it. Everybody knew we were a loansharking outfit, but he didn't have to go around announcing that we had the mob peering over our shoulder.'

Employee at a local game centre (age 26): "He had a thing about younger women - the Lolita type - so he was always in here trying to pick up high-school girls. We used to kid him about it, but with his kind of looks, he didn't do too badly. You'd often see him with some cute little chick on his arm. He was always saying how well his business was doing, but something told me it wasn't all that great. A strange guy, too vain for his own good.'

Manager of a local bar (about 30): "He came in here just the other night, laying it on about some money he'd come into. He said something about making a big score, but I knew he was in the loan business, so I had my doubts. He's a good customer, but can be a bit of a pain sometimes.'

***

The mound of reports painted a clear picture of what Masako and her little gang had done. But lately it seemed she'd hooked up with this Jumonji character and started a little business on the side. Satake smiled to himself, admiring her resourcefulness.

Tired of reading, he pushed the papers off to one side. The loudspeaker was still blaring somewhere outside. He parted the curtains slightly and let the last rays of the winter sun into the room, setting the dust in the air dancing. He stared at the narrow threads of light, impatient for the sun to set. Still several hours until seven, when he would head for work.

The buzzer on the intercom sounded and Satake jumped up to answer it, stuffing the reports in a paper bag and shoving it under the bed as he went. Kuniko's affected voice came blaring from the speaker over the whistling of the wind.

'Sato-san? It's Kuniko Jonouchi.' He had her! Satake smiled broadly and cleared his throat.

'Hold on just a second,' he said. 'I'll be right there.' He pulled back the curtains and opened the balcony door to let in some fresh air. While he was straightening the bedding, he checked to make sure the reports were out of sight. 'Sorry that took so long,' he said as he opened the front door, allowing a gust of cold air to blow a whiff of Kuniko's cloying perfume inside with it: 'Coco' from Chanel, he recognised. Anna had been given a bottle by a customer, but he'd told her to stop wearing it at the club. Strong perfumes follow men home and cause unnecessary trouble.

'I'm sorry to barge in like this,' Kuniko said, straightening her hair and smoothing her skirt.

'Not at all,' he said. 'Come in out of the cold.'

'Just for a minute,' she said, wedging her large frame into the cramped entranceway. She wore a black suit, new boots and a heavy gold necklace, as though she were going out somewhere. By force of habit, Satake immediately appraised her outfit and accessories: all cheap copies of expensive designer labels. While she stood in the hall waiting to be asked in, she peered curiously into the apartment. 'Quite neat and tidy,' she commented.

'My wife took everything with her, I'm afraid. That's all she left,' he said, pointing at the bed by the window. Kuniko stared for a moment and then looked away in mock embarrassment. There was something suggestive in the way she responded, but if she'd known what he was planning for her on that bed, she would have run screaming out of there.

'Did I wake you up?' she asked. 'I was wondering whether you were all right... since you weren't at work last night.'

'It was my night off.'

'Oh? I didn't realise... To tell the truth, I just wanted to say goodbye.'

'Goodbye?' he said, startled. Was she thinking of running for it - just when he'd got hold of her?

'I quit my job,' she explained.

'That's a shame,' he said in a disappointed voice. The sound of it pleased Kuniko no end.

'But I'm staying here in the building,' she told him cheerfully. 'And I know we'll see each other around.'

'I hope so,' he said. 'I'd like that... It's not very cosy, but would you like to come in for a minute?' Kuniko immediately reached down to tug at the zipper where her boot was biting into her calf. 'I'm afraid you'll have to sit on the bed,' he added.

Without a word, she walked toward it. Watching from behind, he ran through his plans. It was all happening sooner than he'd intended, but he couldn't ask for a better chance than this. Now there was no need to come up with a pretext to get her in here; and since she'd quit her job, no one would miss her when she didn't show up for work.

'She didn't even leave me a table,' he told her.

'I kind of like it,' she said, sitting down on the bed. 'My place is so stuffed with things.' She looked around doubtfully at the empty room. 'It's like an office, isn't it? Where do you keep your clothes?'

'I don't really have anything else,' he said, gesturing at the jacket and pants he was wearing, wrinkled now from his nap. Her eyes lingered for a moment on his body.

'Men are lucky,' she said. 'They can get along with almost nothing.' She fished a cigarette out of her fake Chanel bag. Satake produced a spotless ashtray and put it next to her. 'There's a decent bar not far away,' she said, lighting up. 'Would you like to go?'

'I'm afraid I don't drink,' he said. Kuniko seemed disappointed by this information, but she quickly rallied.

'Then let's go get something to eat,' she said.

'All right. Just give me a minute.' Disappearing into the bathroom, he washed his face and brushed his teeth. A glance in the mirror confirmed that his normally close-cropped hair had grown out and he needed a shave. The Kabuki-cho dandy had vanished, and a rumpled, middle-aged security guard stared back at him. Still, in his eyes there were signs that the beast that had lain dormant inside him for so long was coming back to life. He rubbed a towel across his face and opened the door. Kuniko sat on the bed in the empty room, staring idly around her. 'What would you say to ordering something to eat here?' he said.

'What did you have in mind?' she giggled.

'How about some sushi?'

'That sounds wonderful,' she said, smiling happily. Satake, of course, had no intention of ordering anything, or letting anyone know that she'd ever come to apartment 412.

'Would you like a cup of coffee first?' he asked. He filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove. The coffee, too, was a lie: the shelves were as empty as the rest of the apartment. But he opened a door and stood there for a moment, as if considering the contents. Sensing something behind him, he turned to find Kuniko peering over his shoulder.

'It's empty,' she murmured.

'What is?' he said abruptly, in a frigid voice. She froze, as if she'd just run across a snake in the road.

'I just thought I could help..., ' she stammered, backing away. She turned and moved toward the bed, but he slipped his arm around her neck and moved his hand to cover her mouth. Her thick lipstick smeared across his palm as he lifted the heavy body into the air. Though she struggled for a while, her own weight pulled her neck down on his arm and she soon lost consciousness. After he'd managed to lay her out on the bed, he went to turn off the stove.

He then rolled her limp body over and began carefully removing her clothes. When she was naked, he tied her wrists and ankles to the bed, just as he'd imagined doing that morning. It was a perfect dress rehearsal for what he planned for Masako; but when he saw Kuniko's large, bovine body stretched out before him, his desire withered, taking with it the elaborate plan it had given rise to. Suddenly fed up with the whole project, he crumpled the underpants he'd stripped off her and shoved them in her gaping mouth. At that, she woke up and her eyes shot wide open. She stared wildly around the room, trying to understand what was happening to her.

'Now you won't start screaming, will you?' The voice was low and menacing. She shook her head frantically, and a moment later he pulled the underpants from her mouth, leaving a thread of spittle hanging in the air.

'Please!' she gasped. 'Don't hurt me. I'll do anything you ask.' Satake ignored her. He was busy spreading plastic bags under her hips - just in case she soiled the bed. 'What are you doing?' she whispered, tossing and turning as he worked.

'Nothing. Just hold still.'

'Please,' she begged. 'Don't hurt me.' There were tears in her beady eyes.

'Tell me,' he said, 'did Yayoi Yamamoto kill her husband?'

'Yes, yes,' she said, nodding wildly.

'And Masako and you, and Yoshie, the older one, you cut up the body?'

'Yes.'

'Masako was the ringleader?'

'Of course!'

'And how much did Yayoi pay you?'

'Five hundred thousand apiece.' Satake laughed, struck by the irony of a bunch of housewives working for peanuts - and in the process bringing down his precious empire.

'Masako, too?' he asked.

'No, she didn't take anything.'

'And why was that?'

'She's got a stick up her ass,' Kuniko said, blurting out the first words that came into her head. Stick up her ass? Satake laughed again.

'And how did Masako meet Jumonji?'

She hesitated, clearly shocked that he knew this much about them. 'I think they knew each other from before,' she said eventually.

'Which is why he lent you money?'

'No, that was just a coincidence.'

'It's all a little too neat,' he jeered as she began to cry again. 'And it's a little late for tears.'

'Don't hurt me. I'm begging you.'

'Wait a second,' he said. 'How did Jumonji find out about this?'

'I told him.'

'Did you tell anyone else?'

'No.'

'And did you know that the rest of them have set up a nice little business doing what you all did to Yayoi's husband?' As he spoke, Satake slipped the thick leather belt out of the loops on his pants. Kuniko's eyes, white with terror, watched him as her head shook violently back and forth. 'Did you?' he insisted.

'No!' she screamed.

'In other words,' he said, 'they don't trust you. They no longer need you.' As he wrapped the belt around her neck, her wail faded to a frantic gasp. Realising he might still need the gag, Satake reached down for the discarded underpants and forced them deep into her throat. As her eyes rolled back in her head from lack of air, he tightened the belt with a firm tug. He found this murder, the second he had ever committed, utterly uninteresting.

***

He untied the body and pushed it off the bed. Wrapping it tightly in a blanket, he rolled it on to the balcony, propping it carefully in a corner so that it couldn't be seen from the other apartments. When he looked up, the sun was just setting behind the mountains he had seen that morning, though now they were black and almost invisible in the fading light.

Closing the balcony door, he examined the contents of Kuniko's purse. He removed a small stack of ¥10,000 bills from her wallet and took two keys, one for the Golf and the other apparently for her apartment. Then he stuffed her clothes and underwear and shoes into a bag. Taking his own key and his wallet, he left the apartment with the bag. It was dark now, and though the wind had died down, it was cold. He climbed the emergency stairs at the end of the building to the next floor and looked down the passageway. Fortunately, there was no one in sight. Skirting the tricycles and potted plants that lined the wall, he made his way to Kuniko's door and opened it with the key he'd retrieved from her purse.

The apartment was strewn with new clothes and wads of torn wrapping paper and shopping bags. He emptied the bag of clothes he'd brought into the jumble and backed out the door. Checking again to make sure there was no one in the passageway, he locked the door and headed toward the elevator. He ditched Kuniko's key in the trash bin on the first floor and then went to find his bike in the parking area behind the building. A minute later, an ordinary security guard pedalled off to his job at a factory.